


Seven Day Sweets

by Shea M (bubblebee)



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Baking, Canon Disabled Character, Charles Is The Sweetest Dessert, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Lots Of Pastry Metaphors, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, disabled charles, lots of cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-02-23 10:29:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13188195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblebee/pseuds/Shea%20M
Summary: Erik is the proud owner of the best bakery in Seattle, Seven Day Sweets, but when one Charles Xavier decides to come in and see what all the buzz is about, Erik starts to realize that there are sweeter things in life than cupcakes and snickerdoodles.





	1. Sweet Roll Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> I know that there's enough bakery aus around here to give everyone diabetes but these two are too sweet not to. 
> 
> I also felt like there wasn't enough disabled!charles so I did that too, however I myself am not disabled so if I in any way offend or misinterpret, please let me know so I can fix it! 
> 
> There will be seven chapters, but I'm posting what I got right now so I have more motivation to finish, so comments and such are appreciated! 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy, happy reading!

_ “Good morning, Seattle! You're listening to 95.7 The Jet Seattle, your number one place for the best variety of the 80’s and more! It is now 6:05 on this sunny Sunday morning and currently 60 degrees with a high of…”  _

  


A hand shot out from underneath a soft pile of blankets and bashed the talkative alarm clock until it was quiet. 

  


Erik groaned from under the safety of his comforter, reluctant to leave his cocoon of soft warmth. It was Sunday though, and Sunday was one of the busiest days for Erik, so up he must get. Erik threw the covers off of himself, then yawned and stretched his way to the bathroom for a quick shower. 

  


Once clean and clothed for the day, Erik drug his feet the short distance from the bathroom to the kitchen, passing through the living room on his way. His apartment wasn’t very big, but it was big enough for him and his few belongings. A quick glance towards the wall clock that hung above the overly stuffed couch told Erik that he had just enough time to whip himself up a light breakfast he headed to work. 

  


Today was Sunday, and Sunday was quickly becoming Erik’s favorite day, because Sundays were the days when  _ he  _ came in. 

  


Too eager to get work now, Erik decided to forgo making breakfast and to just grab something from one of little cafes on the way there. Satisfied with this plan, Erik shoved his feet into the only pair of comfortable shoes he owned, snatched his keys off the kitchen counter, and grabbed a light jacket from the coat rack before running out the door, stopping only to quickly lock it behind him. 

  


The cheese danish Erik picked up from a coffee shop a few blocks from his work melted in his mouth while his taste buds shook hands. 

  


It was just the right amounts of flaky, moist, and sweet and Erik made a mental note to visit the little place more often while he swallowed down the last bite and chased it with his accompanying cup of morning soul. The coffee wasn’t anything to write home about, but the liquefied bean wasn’t Erik’s specialty.

  


Pastries were, along with the occasional cup of tea.

  


If it was sweet and made with sugar, Erik was the man to consult about it, considering he was the founder and owner of the most popular bakery in all of Seattle,  _ Seven Day Sweets.  _ All his life Erik has had a sweet spot for all things baked and covered with frosting or chocolate, and he always suspected that it had first started the day his mother had made him simple  [ peach tartlets ](http://pinterest.com/pin/12947917661873799/?source_app=android) as a reward for getting good marks in school. 

  


To this day, Erik can still remember how the taste of the little sticky sweets nearly brought him to tears. 

  


After finishing just one, he had insisted that his mother make them again, and to let him watch and assist this time. She had been pleasantly surprised by the passion in his request, and was all too happy to do it all again, with little Erik watching attentively and eagerly at her side. 

  


The  [ Chinese five-spice powder ](http://pinterest.com/pin/185421709629476317/?source_app=android) threw him for a loop at the time, but the peaches were a more than natural and astounding pairing for the sweet tangy flavor of the aromatic blend. 

  


Erik was in love with the art of baking before the second batch even came out of the oven. 

  


Years later, after the grueling and heartbreaking death of his mother, after he had gone to culinary school and had gotten his business license, after all the rejections from bank loan lenders, Erik made his home deep in the heart of Seattle and finally opened up a bakery he thought would’ve been worthy of his mother’s proud tears. 

  


He dubbed it  _ Seven Day Sweets _ after his mother’s faithful routine of baking a different pastry every day of the week, and started by using the recipes she would bake on each day. Sunday was  [ sweet roll ](http://pinterest.com/pin/377880224968877110/?source_app=android) day, one of Erik’s favorites as a child due to his love for the buttery bread. 

  


Now it was his favorite because of one Charles Xavier, an English genetics professor with chocolate curls and skin as fair as sugar, who was always wearing a smile brilliant enough to bake every ball of dough Erik had softly rising in the back. 

  


On Sundays, a beautiful woman with blonde hair and blue-green eyes would accompany him to the bakery just after the morning rush died down, gently pushing the wheelchair Charles was sat so prettily in through the door and up to the counter. 

  


(Erik learned after so many rolls that this woman is Charles’ sister, Raven, and that Sundays were family days, a fact that had the jealousy coursing through Erik’s veins drying up and evaporating shamefully).

  


Today was no different, and just like every other Sunday, Charles fixed Erik with that same gorgeous smile and asked him how his day was going so far. 

  


“I just love Sundays, Charles, you know that.” 

  


Erik told him this with soft smile, carefully wrapping their usual Sunday order of four sweet rolls in pale yellow tissue paper (the color used for Sunday) and dropping it into a brown paper bag dusted with the shop’s logo. 

  


“Can’t imagine why.” 

  


Erik looked up from the register where he was ringing the order up to see Raven peering at him from behind Charles with all too knowing look on her face. 

  


He’s not surprised that she knows about his little crush on her brother. She’s always been exceptionally observant of the interactions between them since the first time she escorted Charles into Erik’s flour coated life. 

  


When he very first met Charles Xavier, his sister hadn’t been with him, and an angry man had accosted Charles for “taking up too much space with his disability”. The bakery wasn’t extremely big, but just like Erik’s apartment it was big enough, bordering on  _ too  _ big, and was easily wheelchair accessible. 

  


The man was just being an unacceptable prick, and Erik had kicked him out for such behavior without a second thought. 

  


Charles had turned the loveliest shade of red at the scene, and had softly apologized to Erik once he had found his voice again. 

  


“There’s no need for all that,” Erik had said gently, eyes softening at the sweet man in front of him, “people like that are less than human, and I refuse to waste my time on them.” 

  


Charles’ lips twitched at that, seemingly fighting a smile. The man then seemed to remember where he was and what he was doing there, because he suddenly cleared his throat and pushed himself closer to the counter. 

  


It had, of course, been a Sunday. 

  


Charles didn’t limit his visits to just Sundays, but those were the days where Erik was  _ guaranteed  _ to see the man, because Sundays were the days his sister had off, and where he had an hour lunch from work. Erik met Raven on Charles’ fifth visit to the bakery, and she had accompanied him every Sunday without fail from then on. 

  


Apparently, Charles had talked about the bakery and the nice man that owned it so much that Raven just  _ had  _ to see the place for herself. 

  


She’d been taken with the place after her first bite of one of Erik’s handmade  [ snickerdoodles ](http://pinterest.com/pin/235453886747715498/?source_app=android) . 

  


She’d also been immediately privy to the way he may or may not have felt about Charles. 

  


Every Sunday, Erik would have to look at and talk to the man that made his heart feel softer than freshly baked sponge cake and pretend that he didn’t feel Raven’s steely, thoughtful gaze on his face the whole time. 

  


When you own and operate a business like the one Erik did, playing it cool becomes almost second nature. 

  


Erik leaned on the counter while he handed the slightly greasy bag to Charles, who took it with an English dipped thanks and a brush of fingers too prolonged and electric to be accidental. The sly but still sheepish look Charles gave him after he had full grip of the buttery rolls only further proved Erik’s suspicions. 

  


The exchange didn’t go unnoticed to Raven either, who moved her narrowed gaze to her brother before she rolled her eyes and grasped the chair’s handles so she could wheel them out of the shop. 

  


“Until next time, my friend.” 

  


That accent was a sweet of its own. 

  


With that honey drizzled goodbye, Raven turned them around and went out the front door, the bell above chirping out their departure. 

  


The rest of Erik’s day went by in a flurry of steaming tea cups and buttery sweet rolls. By the time Erik got out the door (after giving his new hire, Scott, a run down of the closing shift) it was already half past seven, and Erik thought he was going to die of starvation. 

  


He made it home before it could come to that, thankfully, and then went about preparing dinner for himself after he had settled in a bit. 

  


Erik knew his way around a kitchen the same way an alley cat knew it's way around the city. 

  


After so much traveling and scrounging up a different recipe each night, it became second nature. 

  


Since he always just cooked for himself, Erik never made anything too extravagant or heavy, just enough to keep him full until the morning, and to maybe have a plate of leftovers for the next night. He wasn't picky, and he wasn't a bad cook either, so he never minded eating the same thing twice. 

  


Every now and then, however, Erik's accidental loneliness would creep in under the door and through the cracks in the windows, chilling Erik to his core and putting him off his cookbook for a while. 

  


On nights like those, Erik usually ordered in. 

  


Erik thought it would be nice to cook for two, one day, and if the second person sharing his kitchen in his spice scented daydreams just so happened to have cocoa curls and whip cream skin, well…

  


No one had to know.    
  



	2. Muffin Monday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone likes it so far because here's a second chapter!

Mondays weren’t nearly as busy as Sundays were, it being  _ Monday  _ and all, but the morning rush always nearly killed Erik and his staff. 

 

Sundays usually opened up with a slow, quiet morning as Seattle’s residents flocked by the dozens to their respective churches, choosing to wait until it over to grab something sweet for lunch or a sticky snack. Only then did the rush nearly send the staff of  _ Seven Day Sweets _ to their early graves. 

 

Erik was the only one who genuinely enjoyed working every day of the week. 

 

For obvious reasons. 

 

(Besides getting to see the man who Erik was slowly starting to think might be the love of his life). 

 

Mondays were for muffins, and muffins seemed to be everyone’s collective favorite. Seven Day Sweets provided an extensive selection of flavors to choose from, ranging from the more common  [ blueberry  ](http://www.onceuponachef.com/recipes/best-ever-blueberry-muffins.html) and  [ chocolate chip ](http://www.littlesweetbaker.com/2014/10/03/bakery-style-chocolate-chip-muffins-2/) , to the more adventurous  [ apple carrot zucchini ](http://www.wineandglue.com/2017/07/apple-carrot-zucchini-muffins.html) and  [ pumpkin cheddar ](http://www.rachelcooks.com/2011/11/14/pumpkin-cheddar-muffins-book-review-giveaway/) . 

 

All handmade and freshly baked everyday, as was everything else that the customer’s carried out the door and onto the streets of bustling Seattle. 

 

Charles didn’t quite like muffins, Erik found out one day while bagging up the man’s order of  [ dark chocolate croissants ](http://cookingwithruthie.com/2015/01/16/dark-chocolate-stuffed-croissants/) , sheepishly explaining that he thought they were too “dry” for his tastes. Cake and cupcakes he was all over, but the muffins…

 

Well, sometimes you just couldn’t please everyone. 

Despite his distaste for the quick bread, Charles still wondered his way into the bakery on Monday, all glowing smiles and dapper scholar etiquette, a computer bag dangling neatly from one of the wheelchair’s handles. Everytime Erik saw the man, he ached with his whole heart to know if he smelled as sweet as he always looked, like milk chocolate and vanilla. 

Perhaps one day, if Erik baked his cakes right. 

Speaking of cake…

“You wouldn’t happen to have any of those overly sweet cupcakes I like too much, would you, darling? I’m in desperate need of something deliciously tooth rotting and nothing they have in the cafeteria is going to be as satisfying as those cupcakes of yours.” 

Charles had his hands folded delicately in his lap, a small smirk graced his strawberry lips and danced its way into his blue raspberry eyes, where it glittered there like crystallized sugar. 

A sweet all his own, Erik once thought, a ridiculously cheesy sentiment he now thinks again as gazes at the man in front of him thoughtfully, feigning uncertainty at Charles’ request when they both know full well that Erik  _ always  _ has the aforementioned dessert in stock. 

It’s one of Charles’ favorites after all. 

“Oh, I’m sure I could find one or two lying about here  _ somewhere. _ ” 

Charles’ answering chuckle was warm and deep, shaking his chest with genuine amusement as Erik bent down low to reach into one of the display cases. When he popped back up, he placed a simple looking vanilla cupcake on a piece of Monday’s blue tissue paper on the counter for Charles to see. 

 

The man’s eyes lit up at the sight of the  [ raspberry vanilla cream cheese  ](http://www.rockrecipes.com/raspberry-vanilla-cream-cheese-cupcakes-2/) cupcake, frosting perfectly coiffed and raspberry filling enticingly hidden inside a wonderfully moist vanilla cake.

This dessert could cause even the toughest of dieters to water at the mouth. 

“You’ve always been my favorite, Erik, you know that don’t you?”  

Erik laughed softly at Charles’ words and pretended like they didn’t go straight to his heart and nearly cause the aching organ to belt out  _ The Music of the Night.  _

He grabbed a bag from the little cranny under the counter, along with the thin plastic containers they used for such desserts to keep it from smearing all over the bag on its way out, but Charles stopped him before he could even pick the cupcake back up. 

“I think just a plate would do it for me today, my friend. I've become quite tired with my view at the school lately and I thought eating my lunch here would be a nice change of pace.” 

The smile Charles gave Erik was innocent, but also sly and knowing. It made the joyous butterflies that fluttered around Erik's stomach every time he saw Charles beat their wings just a little faster, anxious. 

Erik shook himself mentally and told himself that he was the world's best spy when it came to concealing his true feelings. 

So there was absolutely no way that Charles knew anything about how Erik may or may not feel for him. 

The anxious butterflies in his stomach scoffed and told him to get real. 

“Oh, well, of course, Charles.” 

Erik definitely didn't flub his line. He turned around to the little area where they made the hot tea and grabbed a little saucer from the neat stack beside one of the heated dispensers, then turned back around to set the tiny dessert on top of it. 

“Why don't you go get settled at a table, Charles, and I'll come and bring it to you after I help the next person in line?” 

Erik suggested this only because he just now noticed the very annoyed woman standing behind Charles, arms crossed over her chest and foot actually tapping impatiently. 

Erik didn't know that people actually  _ did that.  _

Charles apparently just noticed her too, because he started at Erik's words and glanced back the huffing woman with embarrassed surprise. 

 

“Oh, yes, of course! I am  _ terribly _ sorry ma'am, I didn't even hear anyone else come in, let me just get out of your way…” 

He trailed off while he maneuvered himself  forward and then to the side. He threw a sheepish smile over his shoulder to the woman, and then to Erik, before disappearing out of Erik's line of sight to go find a table. 

The woman was rude and snappy, understandably so, but thankfully reeled in her apparent urge toss her near boiling tea in Erik's face. 

She left with huff and flip of her long, brown hair over her shoulder, leaving Erik to pick up the saucer with Charles’ horribly sweet lunch on it and seek the man out. He found him nestled into a corner table near the back of the shop, laptop already opened and papers spread out meticulously in front of him. 

Erik walked over, the woman already gone from his mind, and placed the plate near the edge of the table, away from Charles’ work but not close enough to go diving off towards the floor. 

Charles looked up then, eyes bright and smile devastating. 

“Thank you, Erik.” Charles said, very softly, reaching a hand out to lightly touch the man's arm,  before pulling back, ducking his head back down to mark on the page in front of him in shocking red ink. 

The gentle touch seemed to burn straight through Erik's skin, down to his bones and beyond, where it scorched a looping  _ C _ on his very soul as he walked back up to the counter. 

Charles’ light touch stayed with him all day, even after the man left with gushing gratitude towards his cupcake and a promise to come back again, same time tomorrow. 

“I might even stay a bit longer and have a cup of tea.” Charles said, winking at Erik playfully, before pushing himself towards and out the door.

Erik didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce that that man was going to be the death of him. 

Later that night, after he had left his bakery in the trusting hands of Scott, Erik ordered Thai for dinner.


	3. Truffle Tuesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kinda short, but I wrote it on a Tuesday so cut me some slack.

Tuesdays were, well, you know- 

 

Tuesdays. 

 

Erik woke up slowly, unwilling to let go of the soft coffee curls and sweet strawberry smile still lingering around the edges of his sleep covered mind. Charles had been easing his way into Erik's dreams ever since he first met the man, but now he was front and center in nearly every one. 

 

If Erik were a more prideful man, he would admit that he might be a little obsessed with the generics professor, but since he wasn't he didn't have to admit anything. 

 

His morning routine was a blur that tasted like spearmint and bitter instant coffee, and before Erik even got his bearings about him he was standing behind the counter, serving the day's special to a tired looking woman who had two screaming children attached to each of her legs. Erik doesn't have any children, but he was still  somehow able to empathize with her exhaustion all the same. 

 

It was only Tuesday, and Tuesdays were for truffles, which meant that the day was going to go by very, very slowly. 

 

It had little to do with the truffles themselves (as they were always nearly out of them by the end of the day, despite the lazy stream of customers) and everything to do with the fact that it was a Tuesday. 

 

Again, Tuesdays were Tuesdays. 

 

Erik  _ hated  _ Tuesdays, and it wasn’t just because Tuesdays were the days were Erik was guaranteed to be  _ heartbrokenly  _ free of Charles’ lively presence. He’s never asked Charles why he’s never in on Tuesdays, because it’s none of his business and it seemed like a really creepy thing to ask, but he damns whatever it is to the deepest parts of hell every time the day comes about. 

 

With the warm thought of Charles pushed to the back of his mind, Erik went about his work day; serving customers, wiping up the little drops of tea that fell onto the counter, making sure the display cases were full, and keeping Scott from sneaking bites of truffles when he thought Erik couldn't see him. 

 

Erik had just handed off the last of the  [ tiramisu truffles ](http://www.ifyougiveablondeakitchen.com/2016/04/02/no-bake-tiramisu-truffles/) to a fragile looking elderly woman when the bell above the door sung it’s song and Erik glanced over just in time to get a very pleasant surprise indeed. 

 

It was Charles, pushing his way over to the counter with a smile that felt like it was meant just for Erik. 

 

On a  _ Tuesday _ . 

 

Suddenly, there was no place Erik would rather be than standing right where he was, but he tried not to let it show too much when he greeted the man. 

 

“Charles, how nice of you to stop by, I don’t recall ever seeing you in here on a Tuesday.” 

Well, he could throw ‘not being creepy’ right out the window. What a good start. 

Charles didn’t seem to notice how odd the statement was, however, as he simply smiled a bit brighter and leaned back comfortably in his chair. 

“Yes, well, I’m usually stuck in some horrid professors’ meeting right about now, but I decided that there was somewhere far more interesting I’d rather be, so I played a bit of hooky.”  

A soft smirk stretched its way onto the confectionery complexion of Charles’ face, his cerulean eyes glowed with a knowing light that made a warm heat curl up in Erik’s belly. It took a second for what Charles said to fully sink in, but once it finally did Erik nearly shot through the roof, he was so ecstatic. 

Charles came to see him. Charles, a respected genetics professor with several PhDs and enough wealth to make Batman look homeless,  _ pretended to be sick _ just so he could come down and see Erik.  _ Erik.  _

_ Gott segne Dienstag.  _

Erik played it cool, despite the flurry of butterflies in his stomach. 

“Charles, I’m starting to think you only like me for my pastries.” Erik said in mock hurt, his nervous hands busying themselves with wiping down the already spotless countertop. He didn’t want Charles to pick up on how flattered he was by Charles’ actions. 

Of course, the universe had other plans. 

“Oh, Erik darling, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite this red. Perhaps you’re coming down with something as well?” 

A sharp eyebrow was raised in silent suggestion, the smirk from earlier coming in to play once again. 

Erik was confused for a moment, his brain nearly fried from the day’s events, but then it clicked. 

“You are absolutely right, Charles, I can feel myself getting sicker by the second. Give me just one moment.” 

 

A slight nod and a million watt smile from Charles sent Erik rushing into the back, cleaner soaked hands already reaching to untie his apron before throwing it into the hamper just inside the kitchen door. Alex and Scott were huddled together in front of one of the massive ovens, heads close and voices low, as if they didn’t want anyone to hear them, but they broke apart when they noticed Erik’s presence. 

“Something’s come up and I have to clock out early.” Erik said, walking over to the computer so he could punch out. “I trust you boys can close up by yourselves?” 

They both nodded, and Erik thought he was about to get away scotch free, but then Scott opened his mouth. 

“What’s happened? Is everything okay?” 

Damn Scott and his caring nature and kind heart. 

“Yes Scott, everything’s fine. Something’s just come up that needs to be taken care of immediately so I will be leaving to do so.” 

“It’s Charles, isn’t it?” Alex said, knowingly confident. 

Son of a bitch. 

“Look, if I let you two close up early, will you both just shut up and stop asking me questions?” 

That did the trick. With both boys nearly vibrating out of their skin with excitement over getting to leave early, Erik gave them a halfhearted wave and went back out to the front, where Charles was still waiting, pretty and patient. He gave the man a small smile and acted as though he wasn’t sweating like a whore in church. 

“So what now? We go back to your place where we get bundled up and sip broth out of mugs?” 

That little joke sounded better in Erik’s head. 

Charles thankfully laughed, and started to push himself towards the door, knowing Erik would follow closely behind. 

“Close but not quite. We  _ are  _ going back to my place but it will not be so we can soothe our sore throats with chicken noodle soup.” Charles’ voice was teasing honey and Erik hung on to every word like a lifeline. “I have every intention of feeding you, however, so don’t fret about that. I simply want to get to know you a little better, Erik, if that’s alright with you.” 

Something he thought of made Charles pause just short of the door. He turned slightly in his chair so he could look up at Erik, a worrying question wrinkling the space between his eyes. 

“Unless, of course, I’ve been misinterpreting the last few weeks?” 

 

Erik was stunned, elated, and more than a little embarrassed to be called out like this. It was stupid to hope a man as brilliant as Charles would be blind to the way Erik always acted around him, but he honestly thought he had flown in under the radar. 

_ He must think I’m some sort of love sick fool.  _ Erik thought to himself, feeling quite foolish indeed. 

Charles looked anxious enough to be sick, so Erik pulled himself out of his head to put him out of his misery 

“It was silly of me to think I could hide from you forever.” 

Erik admitted this softly, but the words felt like they weighed a ton. 

Charles’ eyes lit up briefly, and he looked as though he would kiss Erik right then and there, but he (unfortunately) remembered himself before any such thing could happen. There was a softness to his face now, however, that wasn’t there before so Erik could deal. If this was going where he thought it was, there would be plenty of opportunities to see if Charles tasted as sweet as he looked. 

“Right it was, Erik, right it was.” 

With that, they pushed forwards, out the door and onto the sidewalk where they were side by side, conversation flowing like water between them while Charles lead the way to his home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of the links aren't working let me know and I'll try to fix them!


	4. Walnut Wednesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short as well, but it's sweet and fluffy like cake! Also, a bit of canon divergence, hope you don't mind terribly. 
> 
> Only three more chapters to go! Hope you guys like it so far!

Yesterday was one of the best Tuesday's of Erik’s whole life.

 

Charles was the exact kind of host Erik always pegged him for: overly polite, constantly offering tea or a snack of some kind, and giving him a full tour of the place (even though it took nearly two hours). Charles’ home wasn’t so much a “house” as it was a “mansion”. The place was big enough to fit at least twenty of Erik’s apartments inside of it, and as Charles lead him around showing him this room and that, Erik couldn’t help but feel a cold pang in his chest at the thought of his sweet little Charles spending his nights alone in a place so empty and big.

 

Once the maze of endless hallways and similar looking doors was over, Charles took them back into the sitting room so they could actually talk to each other.

 

Charles told him about his childhood, about how his mother was neglectful and his father was a drunk, about how his stepfather was even worse and would always turn a blind eye to his own son’s abuse towards Charles.

 

He told him about the day he met Raven, and how he had found her in the dead of night stealing food from his kitchen so she could have a fighting chance at surviving the harsh winter alone. He told him about how he had taken her in, and how neither of his supposed guardians had even noticed the newest addition to the house.

 

He told him about his schooling, and graduating high school at the young, young age of sixteen, and how he then went on to study at Oxford, which carved the path to where he was now. Charles told him about his students, about how he adores every single one of them and thinks they’re all just so, so bright.

 

Charles told him all this over three cups of tea and a plate of finger sandwiches, while the light coming in from the large bay window he sat in front of illuminated a sort of halo around his soft curls. He looked absolutely celestial, with a floral teacup cradled gently in his smaller hands and a fluffy throw blanket tossed lazily over his legs.

 

Erik hung on to every single word that Charles said, and realized about halfway through Charles telling him about a prank he helped execute back in high school that this is what his heaven would look like.

 

Their afternoon together was fantastic, right up until it was Erik’s turn to talk about himself.

 

Erik had a bit of a past, and it wasn’t a good one either, so he decided to take the easiest route and talk about his mother, and how she was his inspiration in almost everything he did.

 

He told Charles about all of his freshly baked birthday cakes, about how his mother always made sure that got one even if he didn’t get any presents. Erik never minded not getting any presents, because his mother’s cakes were the only thing he could ever want.

 

He told Charles about how they would struggle sometimes, financially. About how they didn’t always have enough food in the house and how a missing father never helped the situation. Erik told Charles about standing on a small stool and watching his mother bake when they finally had enough of the proper ingredients to do so. About how that was the beginning of Erik’s love for all things sweet and sticky.

 

He told him about how they felt truly rich indeed whenever they had something sweet and freshly baked to eat, about how the tarts and the truffles and the cookies always seemed to make up for the lack of other things around the house. About how the pastries always made Erik forget about his troubles with violence at school and on the streets, his absent father and their lingering poverty.

He told him about his mother’s sudden decline in health, about how they didn’t really have the money to get her the proper care she needed, and about how he did the best he could to make sure she was as comfortable as she could be in her final days at home. He told Charles about his decision to take out loans, go to culinary school, and get a business license. About how he too was one of the youngest in his classes, and how he made damn sure he was one of the best as well.

 

When his story was over, Erik hesiated to look Charles in the eyes, afraid of what he might see in them.

 

He did so only when he felt the warm weight of Charles’ hand on his knee, and was terribly relieved when all he saw in those blue depths was warmth and soft understanding.

 

The day ended too quickly, with Erik running away before he could have his dream dinner with Charles, scared of how fast his heart was falling for the man with sugar skin and cherry lips. Erik felt terrible, but Charles was either too polite to voice his offense or was simply too understanding of Erik already.

 

Erik hoped it was the latter, as it was the lesser of two evils.

 

Now it was Wednesday, a day of horror for those allergic to nuts, because Wednesdays meant walnuts, and walnuts were in abundance.

 

Erik was usually the main operator of Wednesdays, as most of his small crew had the unfortunate allergy. This didn’t put Erik out, as Wednesdays were only a little bit more busy than Tuesdays. Hank would come in for a few hours during the mid morning and help him with the lunch rush, but he was gone before the dinner one began, leaving Erik completely alone until Darwin showed up to help him cover it. Erik always left a couple hours before closing time, as Darwin was more than capable of locking up by himself, actually prefering to do so alone.

 

Erik enjoyed Wednesday more than Tuesday, but only by an inch.

 

This particular Wednesday was just a tad different than every other Wednesday, as this one now featured a certain professor sitting quietly at a table by a window, grading papers and nibbling on a [ chocolate and walnut scone ](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/466333736390102938/), a cup of tea steaming lazily amongst the papers.

 

Charles came in for his lunch break, but Erik was starting to think that his lunch might’ve actually ended over an hour ago.

 

“Not that I don’t terribly enjoy your presence here Charles, because there is no other place I’d rather you be, but isn’t there somewhere you’re supposed to be?”

Erik’s question rang out into the dining room and floated over to Charles, whose hand stopped short on it’s way to his mouth, scone only half eaten despite it being purchased over two hours ago, and despite it being the only thing Charles ordered to eat. Erik bet the bakery that he would find Charles’ teacup still half full if he were to walk over and investigate.

 

Charles looked caught, but guilt was nowhere to be seen on his cinnamon peppered face.

 

Erik watched as the hand holding the scone slowly lowered the treat back onto the plate. Charles took the time to wipe his hands on a napkin a little bit more meticulously than necessary before he turned to look at Erik sheepishly, eyes shining with tempered mischief. Erik couldn’t fight the smile he felt tugging at his lips at the sight of the professor.

 

He was so adorable it made Erik’s heart ache sometimes.

 

Erik laughed lightheartedly as he made his way over to Charles’ table, where he took a quick minute to sit with the man and couldn't help but notice that he won his bet from earlier, as Charles' cup was still half full. Charles pretended not to notice Erik's inspection and smiled the smile that was meant just for him then reached a hand out to hold one of Erik’s own, thumb dancing in gentle circles across the back. Now, Erik wasn’t a hundred percent sure what they were exactly, but something told him that whatever it was, it was going to be good.

 

It felt really good, Erik thought to himself while Charles started to tell him about a paper he was grading, to finally be in love with something that could possibly love him back.


	5. Turnover Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terrible puns lie ahead...as well as a really short chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only three more to go! Thank you for reading up to this point!

Thursdays were always almost as good as Fridays because they were the day  _ before _ Fridays. 

 

Meaning, the weekend was literally right around the corner. 

 

What better dessert to start the almost weekend with than a turnover? It’s perfect and kind of clever see, because it’s like everyone is  _ turning over _ for the weekend. They’re making plans, getting things done, and turning their probably sour moods around in honor of their days off from soul crushing work. 

 

Well, Erik thought it was clever anyways. His coworkers? Not so much. They never seem to appreciate the all puns Erik makes on Thursday. Charles, however, gets a lovely little kick out of it. 

 

Erik hasn’t figured out if his hearty laughter is genuine, or if he’s just doing that thing people do when they first start dating someone and everything they say is the funniest thing on earth. He likes to think he’s just that funny, but the evidence to prove otherwise is strong too. Erik has learned to take his wins when and where he finds them. 

 

Like today. Today was a win, and for several reasons. 

 

Business was going great; the flow of people was steady without being overwhelming, the turnovers were coming out perfectly and selling like hot cakes, and Charles was now a constant, non-distributive presence at his new favorite table in front of the window during his lunch breaks. 

 

While he was here, Charles would sit at his table and quietly grade papers while slowly working on the lunch that Erik brought to him. Once his food was gone, Erik would bring him a cup of tea and sit with him until it went cold due to it being mostly untouched while they conversed.

 

During this time, they would try to look at the clock as little as possible, trying not to countdown the seconds to Charles’ unfortunate departure. 

 

Erik failed more often than Charles did. 

 

They still haven’t had the “relationship talk”, but something tells Erik that they don’t really need to. They’ve fallen into something comfortable and warm. Everything inside of Erik is telling him that this is what love feels like and Charles seems blissfully content, so he decides to leave things where they are. 

 

Everything is working fine, so why mess with it? 

 

They were both happy, and that was all that mattered. Besides, it’d had only been about a week since they starting doing anything together outside of the bakery. They had plenty of time to figure things out together. 

 

“What time are you leaving today, Erik?” Charles asked about fifteen minutes after his scheduled lunch was over. Erik never knew if he ever got in trouble for being late coming back from lunch, but whoever he answered to couldn’t be too upset about it considering that Charles was still teaching. 

 

“Probably around six or so...why?” Erik asked in return, getting up from his chair to bus Charles’ table a bit. What was once a  [ caramel apple turnover ](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/114560384253127519/) was now just sticky crumbs on Charles’ plate, and Erik made a mental note to read up on the recipe later so he could make them for Charles at home someday. 

 

Maybe. Hopefully. 

 

“Well, it just so happens that my last class of the day gets out at five so I was thinking that we could get dinner, perhaps? If you wanted to of course.” 

Charles said that last bit a little quickly, like he wasn’t certain if he should be assuming anything about what they were doing. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one who was unsure. 

“Charles, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were asking me out.” 

Erik’s tease made soft scarlet bloom on Charles’ cheeks, the perfect hint of strawberry to compliment the dusting of cinnamon across his nose, and Erik felt something tug at his heart at the sight. 

“Only if you accept.” Charles’ playful jab was quick, his grin full of teeth, and Erik could feel a smile of his own start to spread. Why would Erik ever doubt something that felt this good and easy? He must be out of his mind.

“I’d love to go to dinner with you Charles.” 

The softness in Erik’s voice brought more color to Charles, and Erik decided it was time to usher Charles out of his shop and back to his job, before his heart took a leap right out of his chest. Charles tried to play offended, but Erik knew he wasn’t serious, and Charles knew he was due back nearly a half hour ago, so he went out the door with nothing more than another light rib and a wave over his shoulder. 

The rest of the day was routine, with Erik glancing impatiently at the clock every fifteen minutes. It was normal, boring, and sluggish, time teetering in the limbo that was the “before dinner rush slow”. 

Erik honestly considered clocking out earlier, but then the kitchen caught fire, so he thought he should maybe deal with that before he did. 


	6. Fudge Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter to go! Sorry about the slow updates, hope you enjoy!

Thanks to the fire that turned the most important part of the kitchen into a lethal smelling crisp, Erik and Charles never did get to do to dinner. 

 

Erik stood in front of his thankfully still standing bakery surrounded by firefighters and bright, swirling lights for more than two hours while Alex and Darwin told the story of what happened to a couple of tired looking police officers. According to them, they were both in the kitchen doing miscellaneous bakery things when the over that housed the soon to be fresh turnovers suddenly combusted. 

As did the oven next to it, and the one next to that one. 

 

The fire was too big for Erik and company to put out alone, so naturally they had to call the fire department to do it for them lest the whole building burn to the ground. After they put the fire out, the fire department informed them that the mini explosion had been caused by what appeared to be a silent gas leak, that it was nobody’s fault, and that they were “lucky to be alive”.

 

Erik’s never felt like a bigger idiot in his entire life. 

 

He’s also never been more thankful for insurance in his entire life.

 

The only thing Erik truly dreaded was the phone call to Charles he was going to have to make, letting him know what happened, and that they were going to have to reschedule their “date” if at all possible. Of course, Charles couldn’t have given a damn about the date because  _ your bloody fucking bakery just caught fire, Erik, what the hell? _

 

After a full fifteen minutes of repeatedly telling Charles that him and everyone else in the building at the time were perfectly fine, he spent the  _ next  _ fifteen turning down any and every offer Charles made regarding the man paying for the repairs with his own money, out of his own pockets. Erik was aware that Charles had more money than even  _ Charles  _ was aware of, but he didn’t want Charles to worry about something that wasn’t his to worry about. 

 

Erik had property insurance, and the damages would be taken care of. 

When he was done telling Charles no for what was the first and probably the last time, they both agreed that dinner could wait until next time, as Erik just wanted to get home and get to bed. They planned a time to meet sometime tomorrow for a late lunch and said their goodnights. 

 

It was nearly midnight by the time Erik got home, and all he did once he got there was take his shoes and jacket off at the door, and passed out on top of his still neatly made bed. 

 

Now it was Friday, Fudge Friday to be exact, which just so happened to be the bakery’s busiest day, with Sundays and Mondays following closely behind. Fudge Friday was the city’s favorite day because of course everyone loved fudge, and everyone loved Fridays. Unfortunately, the citizens of Seattle were going to be deprived of Erik’s best selling  [ salted caramel chocolate fudge ](http://therecipecritic.stfi.re/2016/11/chocolate-caramel-fudge/?sf=zxvwkbn) since the fudge making part of his bakery just so happened to be in burnt, crispy shambles.

 

Now Erik had the day off. In fact, he had about three weeks worth of days off and he had no idea what he was going to do with any of it. 

In all of his business career, since going to school and actually opening the bakery, Erik has never had an entirely free Friday. If you wanted to eat dinner at eight o’clock at night, then Erik was the man to make plans with, because other than that he either working or sleeping. Of course he had the required by law day off, but he usually spent those at the gym or grocery store. 

 

Now that he was with Charles, however, he could spend what little free time he had with someone else, someone he  _ actually  _ wanted to see every day. 

 

This whole ‘not being lonely anymore’ thing was really starting to work out. 

 

Since he did have a free Friday now, Erik decided to see if Charles wanted to meet for a regularly timed lunch. Charles enthusiastically agreed to meet him-Erik could hear his smile over the phone-and before the hour of one even struck they were both situated in a quiet corner booth at the back of a small, homey diner. This was Erik’s first time in the establishment, but apparently Charles was a regular, as the waitress called him by name and was writing down his “usual” before Erik could even open his menu. 

 

Half an hour later, two regulars were brought to their table, along with a half-full pitcher of iced tea and a few extra napkins, as the “regular” consisted of an  [ open faced hot beef sandwich  ](http://what2cook.net/2013/04/24/hot-open-faced-roast-beef-sandwich/) completely hidden underneath a steaming pool of brown gravy and enough mashed potatoes to feed half the whole of Ireland twice. Now this might sound bad, but Erik never pegged Charles as the type of person to eat something so...comforting. The only things Erik’s ever seen the man eat were at his bakery, so it’s not like Erik had a lot to compare this meal to. 

 

Charles had his plate clean a full fifteen minutes before Erik cleaned his. 

 

This lunch was now officially the best meal Erik’s ever had. 

 

After giving their waitress a $30 tip like he did it every day (and Erik was sure he did), Charles suggested they wonder around the city for a bit and do a little window shopping. “Window shopping” turned out to be Charles  _ actually  _ buying everything he set his pretty little eyes on and Erik buying every  _ other  _ thing he set his eyes on while also carrying most of Charles’ bags as only a couple dozen could fit on the handles of his chair. Erik had a mini stroke every time a cashier said Charles’ total, but the man never even bat an eye. He would just smile brightly, open up his wallet, and pull out his card. 

 

Erik was brain dead by the time they decided to call it a day, but the soft look of contentment that passed over Charles’ face when they loaded everything into the truck of a taxi caused a few wires to spark again. 

 

The day was a success. Even Erik’s wallet had to admit that. 

They took a cab back to Charles’ place so they (Erik) could drop the dozens of bags off inside before they headed over to Erik’s for dinner. Erik only had three small bags of his own, which he set down on a chair near the door once inside. Charles moved into the living room and over the the very small bookcase Erik had nestled up against the wall by the TV. Erik watched him contemplate the miniscule selection while he got everything ready for dinner. Since they had such a big and heavy lunch, Erik thought it best to have a lighter dinner, so he’s going with BLTs. 

 

It takes him only twenty minutes to fry up the bacon and assemble their sandwiches. By that time, Charles is nose-deep in one of the only books Erik owns that isn’t a cookbook, and startles slightly when Erik brings his plate over to him. They both apologize over each other, all bright smiles and light laughter, before deciding to find something to watch with dinner. 

 

This turns out to be no easy feat, as Charles is hellbent on watching a documentary about the mating habits of kiwis and Erik wants to watch anything  _ but  _ that. 

 

In the end, Erik reluctantly learns that female kiwis have two functional ovaries and that they lay eggs six times as big as normal for a bird their size, taking up about 20% of the mother’s body once pregnant. It’s the most knowledge Erik’s ever known about a bird in his whole life. 

 

Charles was more than pleased. 

 

Erik took their empty plates back to the kitchen once the documentary ended so he wouldn’t have to see the pleasant smugness on Charles’ face, afraid he would kiss it right off of him. He wasn’t sure if they were there yet, as today was only their second(?) date. He didn’t want to move things too fast and scare Charles away or make him uncomfortable. Erik decided, from the moment this thing between them took off, that he was going to let Charles call all the shots and make all the moves. Not the most gentlemanly thing to do, he knows, but he thinks it’s a whole lot better than losing Charles all together. 

 

_ What if he thinks you’re not making any moves because you’re not interested in him?  _

 

The thought made Erik sweat. 

 

“Erik, darling, are you alright?” 

 

The question made Erik jump in his place at the sink, the plate he’d been spending way too much time washing slipped out of his hands and landed thankfully unbroken with a loud crash. He turned around to find a concerned looking Charles waiting patiently behind him, the book he’d chosen earlier open on his lap. 

 

Erik wiped his wet hands on a towel he found draped over the oven handle before he walked the short distance to Charles, placed his still slightly damp hands on either side of his cinnamon sprinkled face, and pressed his lips against that strawberry mouth. 

Time seemed to stop, just like it was described in movies and books. Erik almost couldn’t feel the parts of his body that weren’t touching Charles, and it was only when the other man breathed out and brought his hands up to cradle the ones on his face did Erik realize what he was doing. 

He pulled back slowly, so as not to dislodge Charles’ hands on his, and studied the expression on the man’s face. Charles seemed far away, but the blush on his cheeks and the sparkle in his eye told Erik it was the good kind of far away. 

Neither of them made any noise for what seemed like an eternity, but eventually the silence was broken by Charles breathily asking, “Would you do that again, please?”.

Erik chuckled softly, then leaned in to give him an answer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The kiwi stuff is real. Check it out: 
> 
> https://www.kiwisforkiwi.org/about-kiwi/kiwi-facts-characteristics/kiwi-life-cycle/
> 
> https://www.kiwisforkiwi.org/about-kiwi/kiwi-facts-characteristics/enormous-egg/


	7. Shortbread Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knows it's somewhere sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The final chapter! Sorry it took so long to update, I've been lazy and uninspired. :/ 
> 
> Oh well, it's here now, even though it's kind of really short. 
> 
> I hope you guys like it, thank you so much for reading!! ♡

Two weeks after the bakery’s kitchen was burnt to a char, Erik stood at a brand new linoleum counter, and handed a smiling group of girl scouts the very first batch of  [ chocolate chip shortbread cookies ](http://thestayathomechef.com/chocolate-chip-shortbread-cookies/) to come out of one of the brand new ovens. 

 

Erik briefly wondered if their Den Mother would consider it cheating. 

 

Why Erik decided to open up the bakery again on a Saturday as opposed to just waiting until Monday, he would never know. He thinks it might have something to do with the fact that he  _ really _ missed his little shop and all it's little customers, but he would never admit it. 

 

One of the girls offered Erik a box of Thin Mints as a secondary form of payment, and surprisingly it didn’t take a lot of convincing for him to accept. 

 

It was Saturday, Erik could stand to bend the rules a bit, just this once. Besides, who doesn't like Thin Mints? 

 

Erik waved and smiled as the Scouts shouted their goodbyes around the woman who was shuffling them out the door, then shifted his smile to the next customer in line. Saturday was a busy day, but Erik welcomed the rush with open arms as it was a definite step up to the slow, drowsy two weeks he just trudged through. 

 

Of course it wasn't all bad because every minute that he could be, Charles was there beside him, keeping him company with his terribly cheesy scholar jokes and a mess of half graded papers, his ink stained fingers pressing red kisses into the back of Erik's hand where he held it in his own. 

 

It was the best vacation Erik's ever been on, and he hardly had to leave the comfort of his own home. 

 

The bell chimed out for what easily could've been the hundredth time that morning, and when he lifted his head from the display case, Erik was greeted with the lovely sight of his tweed covered Charles. A slow warmth spread itself like jam around Erik's stomach, and he rose up to from the rows of sweets to lean on the counter so he could greet the other man. 

 

“Now I know it's shortbread day”, Charles started as way of greeting, “but I've waited nearly two weeks to have my favorite again and if I don't have it _right_ _this minute_ I think I might perish.” 

 

His poor Charles looked genuinely distressed, so Erik decided to take pity on him. 

 

He held a finger up, motioning for Charles to give him just a moment, before disappearing into the kitchen. Erik returned about ten seconds later, a small white plate carrying a small white cupcake in his hand, a fond smile stretched over his face. 

 

Charles eyes lit up at the sight of the confection before he started doing “gimme” hands, and Erik laughed at the man’s previous, childlike actions because his Charles really was the sweetest thing.

 

Erik let Charles drool all over his precious cupcake while he rang him up, then took a moment to talk with him at his table while it was kind of slow. 

 

Charles told Erik about his early morning lectures while he tried and failed to not get frosting all over his face and hands, and Erik told Charles about his busy sticky morning while he gently wiped at his cream cheese fingers with a napkin. 

 

The whole scene was sickeningly sweet and domestic, and Erik was sure that if Alex were here, he'd be making fun of him from all the way in the back. 

 

Erik wouldn't have minded so much, so long as the kid was willing to close up as pay back. 

 

Suddenly it got a little busier, and Erik was forced to go back to the counter, but Charles stayed where he was and didn't look like he was moving any time soon, if the pens and papers scattered around his empty plate were anything to go by. 

 

The flow of customers was a steady one, and everything in the kitchen was working better than it ever has before. Every cookie, cupcake, and scone that came out was perfect. The sun decided to show it's face after hiding behind the clouds that have hung over Seattle the past couple of days. 

 

All was as it should be. 

 

As Erik stole another glance at his no doubt ink splottled Charles in the middle of switching out pastries, he thought heavily of his mother. None of this would be here, or even be possible, if it weren't for her. 

 

She was the one that introduced him to baking in the first place, all those years ago. She was the one he went to school for, the one he opened his bakery for, and the one he named it after. 

 

Erik silently thanks her, with everything he has in his heart, knowing that she'll hear it wherever she may be. 

 

He knows it's somewhere sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hang on out on Tumblr a lot, just search for spidersonparker and you'll find me! ♡


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